


you paint it with white feelings

by mingyu-uji (knjkth)



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Artist Xu Ming Hao | The8, Choi Seungcheol | S.Coups-centric, Introspection, M/M, Post-Break Up, Set in Korea
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-30
Updated: 2020-08-30
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:33:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26063518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/knjkth/pseuds/mingyu-uji
Summary: Back then, Seungcheol was still too brittle and passionate and off-kilter, and it seemed like Minghao had no path butforward. And Seungcheol, all tangled up with emotion, felt like he was being left in the dust, like he was traversing through time backwards, somehow.
Relationships: Past Choi Seungcheol | S.Coups/Xu Ming Hao | The8
Comments: 18
Kudos: 25
Collections: Challenge 1: Kidult





	you paint it with white feelings

**Author's Note:**

> perhaps it is a little too on the nose, but the title is, of course, from kidult  
>  this is my first svt fic and i am not so sure abt my grasp of their character voices but i wanted to thank the creators of this challenge to help me start writing for them c':  
>    
> 
>
>> Above this world that’s covered with black  
>  You paint it with white feelings

Minghao had always wanted to have his work displayed in a gallery, Seungcheol thinks.

Minghao never told him in so many words. In fact, Minghao was quite adamant that he didn't want—didn't _need_ recognition for his work.

"I paint to help myself find my way, find me, y'know...like learning another language. Another way to get to know me," he'd mumble under his breath, distracted, Seungcheol standing by as Minghao worked at his canvas with deft fingers.

And—that was another one of Seungcheol's faults, disturbing him while he was working. Minghao went about his life with single-handed focus when it concerned things that were important to him; Seungcheol was probably somewhere on that list, but in the moments when Minghao was sat in front of his canvas, art took the top spot.

Seungcheol couldn't necessarily be the same way; he barely felt like he _had_ anything to focus _on_ —but he didn't fault Minghao, not for his focus on his art nor his reason for making it.

Seungcheol saw a certain passion in Minghao, and the talent to weave stories into the fibers of his canvas and have it reach others—and so Seungcheol had no doubts that Minghao could achieve anything he wanted with his art—if he _wanted_ to.

Back then, Seungcheol was still too brittle and passionate and off-kilter, and it seemed like Minghao had no path but _forward_. And Seungcheol, all tangled up with emotion, felt like he was being left in the dust, like he was traversing through time backwards, somehow.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


The gallery itself is not very large—especially considering the stature of the other art museums that are littered across Jongno-Gu.

Initially, it was probably an attempt by the cafe downstairs to distinguish itself, garner more attention—but then suddenly, somehow, it'd taken off, (whether that be because the citizens of Seoul really did enjoy the art or because they wanted to pose as romantic and cultured on their Instagram stories, Seungcheol won't ever know).

Perhaps it helped that the art was a bit more palatable for the everyday person than the contemporary art of MMCA or Arario or Daelim or—well, Seungcheol doesn't know, himself.

As it is, he's standing in this cafe-second-floor-turned-gallery today because Mingyu asked him to tag along.

And, well—Seungcheol has always been rather hung up on it all, possibly. Another childish attribute about him, maybe, that persists even as he should grow out of it—his inability to let go and move on, somehow still clinging, like a child to their mother's leg.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Seungcheol quickly tires of Mingyu's slow pace, and so he leaves Mingyu to it, telling him they can just meet downstairs when he's ready.

Seungcheol just doesn't really know what to look for here, he justifies to himself, and yet.

He finds himself stopped in front of a piece at the end of the gallery, tucked into the wall like—not an afterthought, really, but something you had to be searching for to find.

Seungcheol doesn't know if he was searching for it, but something about it tells him he was meant to find it anyways.

It's a canvas with a black wash of paint. That's what Seungcheol notices first, the inverse of it. It reminds him of the dark cover of midnight, and it'd _feel_ dark too, if not for the details that have been painted on in contrast.

Bright white circle in the center, _dallim_ as she shines, sweeping strokes upwards from the bottom left, splatters of paint towards the sky, strokes like tree branches almost peeking off the canvas on the right.

Seungcheol doesn't always think in metaphors, but he stares at this painting with feelings like waves crashing within him, like a tide being drawn powerful and high and fast to a full moon.

"You like this one, hyung?" The voice is soft but it still startles Seungcheol, has his heart hammering in his chest as he turns around. Of course.

Minghao is as beautiful as he remembers—no, more so, now. There's something to him that has settled, _blossomed._

It lights him up from the inside, like white moonlight cast upon his features, and Seungcheol can't help but be drawn to him.

Minghao casts him a smile. Seungcheol doesn't (can't) respond, tries to turn away to face the painting again, but now he knows it's Minghao's, and it doesn't work—it's like staring directly at Minghao, directly _into_ Minghao, full-force and no barriers.

Minghao takes his lack of response in stride. He always did.

"I was hoping, you know." Minghao waits and Seungcheol's body reacts instinctively, turns towards Minghao for more.

Minghao looks at him, looks _into_ him, and all of a sudden Seungcheol feels like it's more than he deserves. "Hoping that you'd be here. Hoping that you'd see this."

"I—it's good." That's not quite what Seungcheol means to say and it has his words lilting up at the end.

Minghao hums in response, like he knows. There's a look in his eyes that Seungcheol can't place.

They stand in silence, for a while, then: "I think, maybe, I learned how to paint like this from you."

It's a whisper, a soft confession. Seungcheol feels like holding his breath.

The painting in front of him, even as it is so _alive_ , is serene, somehow, and Seungcheol feels anything _but_ , so how could anything so _sure_ come from something so _tumultuous_?

"You've always felt loudly, Seungcheol-hyung." Minghao lets their past bleed into his tone. "I think it just took me a while to learn to do the same."

And Seungcheol, with a roaring in his chest like a tidal wave, suddenly remembers it all again, suddenly understands, regrets, dares to _hope_. Tumultuous with his feelings, but _alive_.

He sees himself reflected in Minghao's eyes.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


"How was it, then, hyung?" Mingyu asks him, as they're leaving.

"It was good," he responds quietly, and this time he means it.

**Author's Note:**

>   
> **dallim** or 달님 is moon-nim  
> the gallery i mentioned absolutely does not exist! i made it all up, But MMCA, Arario, Daelim are of course all museums/galleries in jongno-gu in seoul.  
> oh! and in case you haven't seen it, [here](https://twitter.com/wonhaocult/status/1294948523469762560?s=20) is minghao's beautiful art that essentially inspired this entire thing. ofc the inspirations for it/interpretations of it that i adopted for the sake of this fic are purely just for the sake of this fic & hav no bearing irl but the piece itself is wonderful & i'm really happy minghao chooses to share his art with us c':  
> anyways thank u for reading ♡


End file.
